Boy, Interrupted
by tlhc
Summary: Castiel is depressed and directionless after finishing high school in the 1960's. A suicide attempt lands him in Provenance, a mental institution. He befriends the band of troubled men in his ward (Gabriel the pathological liar, the sexually abused Balthazar, the burn victim Lucifer) but falls under the hypnotic sway of Dean Winchester, the wildest and most hardened of the bunch.
1. Chapter 1

_Have you ever confused a dream with real life?_

_Or stolen something when you have the cash? _

_Have you ever been blue?_

_Or thought your train moving while sitting still?_

_Maybe I was just crazy._

_Maybe it was the 60's_

_Or maybe I was just a boy…_

_Interrupted._

CHAPTER ONE

"PROVENANCE"

"Give him five milligrams of Vallium, IV"

I woke up to the doctors pumping my stomach. They took a long tube and put it slowly down the back of my throat. That was like being choked to death. Then they began to pump. That was like having blood drawn on a massive scale – the suction, the sense of tissue collapsing and touching itself in a way it shouldn't, the nausea as all that was inside was pulled out. The doctor had to remove the tube as I started to puke.

"Turn his head so he doesn't aspirate."

"There you go"

"Aspirin fragments and vodka, I think"

"Don't tell me what you think, take it to the lab."

From the angle they had turned my head to, I could see Mr. Crowley watching me from behind the ER doors. He looked like someone who had just run over a deer that insisted on standing in the middle of the road. The metaphor did not suit the situation, though. Unlike the clueless deer, I knew my body could be wrenched by a ton of metal at any time; but the intense brightness that preceded the blow was just too overwhelming to be given up on.

I couldn't say if he was disgusted with me or with himself. Maybe both.

"You should check my hand. There's no bones in it." I managed to blab, turning my head away from the accusatory look.

"A wrist banger. Is that why you did that?"

"And other things."

"His relatives are on the way"

"Sometimes it's hard… for me to stay in one… place."

—

"Castiel… If you had no bones in your hand; how did you pick up the aspirin?"

The doctor I was pressed to get a consultation with after the aspirin incident kept asking me questions I did not want to answer. I looked through the window to the sight of a respectable suburban neighborhood, noticing my uncle Michael taking a suitcase out of the trunk of his car. I tilted my head as I tried to put together the pieces of what had been a very stressful morning.

"What is my uncle doing?"

"Would you answer my question, please? How did you pick up the aspirin, if you had no bones in your hand?"

"By then they'd come back."

"Oh. I see."

"No. You don't." I replied under my breath, as I lit a cigarette, hoping to erase the unusual scent of anemone that impregnated the room.

"Well… indulge me, then. Explain it to me."

"Explain what? Explain to a doctor, that the laws of physics can be suspended? That what goes up may not come down?"

A phone rang, and I was again distracted. I turned my head and saw a little girl playing on the floor of an adjacent room. There was a dog barking somewhere on the back of the house.

"Explain that time can move backwards and forwards and from now to then and back again and you can't control it?"

The dog's barks became more and more loud.

"Why can't you control it?"

The noise wouldn't stop, and I could feel it piercing through my skull.

"What?"

"Why can't you control time?"

—

Luke was barking when I got home. Since there was a party going on and the new family dog wasn't very fond of strangers, the noise did not surprise me.

"Luke… shhh. Where were you?" My aunt Anna asked, as she spotted me staring at her. Her red hair was up in a high hairstyle and she had a party dress on. There was a birthday cake on the table reading _Happy Birthday Michael_. "Everyone is here. Come on." I was dragged to the dining room, where all the unknown family friends were drinking brandy and having small talk. "Mary, you remember Castiel."

"Yes, I do." The elder lady smiled at me. I smiled back.

I was taken to the living room, where there was even more small talk on the background. "So this is what you're wearing?" She looked down at my worn out trench coat with a disapproving yet tender grin.

"I didn't know it was so early. I would have changed."

She turned to the small crowd with her best smile. "Hey everybody, look who is here!"

Most of the people shouted back a "hi", along with a couple waves.

"Happy birthday, uncle Michael."

"Thanks, boy."

I tried to excuse myself to my room, but my aunt catched me and twisted me around, until I was faced with a middle-aged woman who kept saying my name. I heard a whisper in my left ear "Professor's Crowley wife."

"Hi, Lilith Crowley, do you remember me? Rubby's mum, I'm Rubby's mum."

"Yeah." I managed to look into the woman's eyes. She didn't look like she was about to have a meltdown. That was good.

"Your eyes are so beautiful. Now Rubby was in your lit class, wasn't she?"

"Yeah. How – how is she doing?"

"She just got accepted to Radcliff. Oh, what a conundrum. I'm a Welsley girl myself, but I think young woman should just make up their mind, don't you think so?

—-

I turned my head to face him; I had been staring at the little girl the whole time.

"Are you stoned? Did you smoke pot? Took LSD? No drugs?" I gave a dismissive head nod. "What do you feel right now?"

"I don't… I don't know what I'm feeling."

"You need a rest." He announced. I did need a rest, particularly since I'd gotten up early that morning in order to see this doctor, who lived out in the suburbs.

"Oh… I'll go home. Take a nap."

"No, no. You need to go somewhere, where you can get a genuine rest. And you're very lucky. The best place in the world for someone like you is less than a half an hour from here."

"You don't mean Provenance?"

"Castiel, four days ago, you chased a bottle of aspirin with a bottle of vodka."

"I, uh, I had a headache."

"Castiel, your uncle is a friend of mine. He's a colleague. He asked me to see you, even though I don't do this anymore. You're hurting everyone around you. Now, Provenance is a top notch place. A lot of people go there. Even writers, like you."

He stood up and picked up his phone. Meanwhile, I took a look at a book that as lying on the coffe table "The Inner Working of The Mind". I turned it around and saw Doctor Zachariah's photo on the back cover.

I could hear him ordering a cab on the phone.

"My uncle is here."

"It'll be less emotional if we do it this way. Your family and I have talked about it."

We walked towards the cab as uncle Michael stared at me from his car across the street. There was pity in his eyes, but no complacence. I had no chance at escaping my stay at Provenance. The doctor opened the door and I got in, already finding my suitcase on the back seat.

"Now, make sure no stops." He said to the cab driver. He waved me goodbye.

The cab took off. I gave one last look through the back pane at my uncle's car. Petula Clark's "Downtown" was playing on the cab's radio as I lit another cigarette.

—

It was my uncle's birthday and I was hiding in my bedroom. I could've been outside, playing nice and getting along with people who didn't really care about me, and I would've been, if I Ms. Crowley hadn't cornered me early. I wondered if she knew that her husband was banging on my door while she was singing "For He's a Joly Good Fellow".

"Castiel. Castiel. Castiel. Castiel. Are you in there?"

I got off my bed and opened the door, but not letting my English teacher in.

"Hey. I wanna see you again." He looked appreciatively at my body and I became self-aware about the fact I was only in flannel pants and a loose t-shirt.

"Look. It was a one-time thing, okay?"

"Just come to my office, tonight."

He turned his head as he noticed aunt Anna's screams from downstairs.

"Sweetie. Where are you? We are opening the presents!"

He turned back at me "Tell them you're going to a friend's. Please?"

"Oh yeah? Who do you want me to tell it first? My parents, the department chairman or your wife?"

"Castiel"

"NO." I closed the door.

—-

"What did you do?"

"Excuse me?"

The cab driver looked at me through the rear-view mirror. "Well, you look normal."

"I'm sad." I stated. The cabbie laughed at me.

"Well, everyone's sad."

"Well I- I see things."

"You mean like, uh, tripping?"

"Kind of."

"Well, then they should put John Lennon away, huh?"

I looked at him –really looked at him- for the first time. He didn't look like he was joking. "I am not John Lennon." That earned me another laugh as the cab pulled besides a big red brick building, where a fat, bearded man awaited us.

"Don't get too comfortable."

I sat in a chair for fifteen minutes waiting to sign my freedom away. Several preconditions are necessary if you are going to do such a thing. The man that welcomed me to the hospital sat on a corner. As I wrote down my name on a dotted line, a thought occurred to me.

"Shouldn't my family…"

"You have to sign them, Mr. Novak. You're over eighteen, this is your decision." I agreed, and kept signing. I flipped through the pages of my admission papers. One read _**"…depressed – has attempted suicide…". **_

"Uhm…Uh, I, I didn't try to kill myself."

"That's the kind of thing you talk about in therapy, honey. Not here." Puzzled, I took a questioning look at the bearded man, whose smile served as some sort of comfort.

"Mr. Novak. You have the distinction of being the only senior at Spring Brook not going on to college." I gave my high school headmaster a weary but also dismissive look. "May I ask what you plan to do?"

"I plan to write."

"But what do you plan to do?" I lifted my head, looking her in the eyes as I repeated the speech I had already given my family a couple of times.

"Look, I'm not gonna become a communist or drop acid or go march on Washington. I just, I don't wanna end up like my father. He killed himself after his company broke. My mom didn't wait much to follow him. I don't want a 9-to-5 job that will make me miserable."

"Young people today have more choices than that."

"No they don't."

"And here." The secretary shows me where to sign. "You forgot one dear, here"

"Oh" I finished signing my admission papers.

"Well, speaking for Dr. Mosley and myself, welcome to Provenance, Castiel."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

"MEET DEAN"

"My name is Robert, but you can call me Bobby, everyone else does." The man with the reassuring smile said, as we walked to the ward. He kept a fast pace and didn't look back, as if he expected me to keep up with him. "This is the men's ward, also known as North Bel. This is where you'll be staying and this is where I work." We entered the brick building and headed to the stairs "Alright, this is the second floor. I need you to stay close to me because it's easy to get lost."

"This is our ward." He stated, but all I could see was a hallway. A long, long hallway: too long. Seven or eight double doors on each side. "All right, let's start with this room." He opened one of the doors to the sight of a clear, opened room, several draws hanging on the walls and wooden chairs painted differently one from another "This is our art room."

I turned around to the sound of a guitar being strummed. There was a man sitting on a chair, his back turned to us, oblivious of our presence, doing it. The nurse sighed.

"Lucifer, what are you doing here?" The dark-blond haired man jumped on his seat, looking at us. The shock from seeing his face caught me by surprise. His face and neck were covered in scar tissue. The scars were thick ridges, alternating bright pink and white, in stripes up from his neck. They were so tough and wide that he couldn't turn her head, but had to swivel his entire upper torso so he could talk to us. I felt like I was going to throw up.

"I feel very musical today." He wore a bright smile on his flawed face "Can I, Can I just for…"

Bobby shook his head "Not today, honey. Uh uh." I tried my best not to stare while the other man left the art room in a very shy matter. "That's Lucifer. Come on"

"Meg. Lucifer was in the art room by himself."

"Sorry, Bobby." A young nurse replied. He kept walking me through the hall, occasionally pointing to a room and explaining its function.

"Alright. Ah…the living room. Everyone hates it. And these are the phones. You need to make a call, pick up the handle, tell the nurse; she'll connect you. This is the nurse's station, which is self-explanatory. And this, is the TV room, where everyone hangs out."

Everyone was indeed hanging out. A very skinny man, wearing what it seemed to be hospital scrubs, took his cigarette from his mouth and screamed to Bobby. "I WANT MY FUCKING CLOTHES."

"Then you'll have to eat something, won't you Samandriel?"

Bobby walked towards a white board full of names. "This is the checking board. You check in here if you want to take a walk on the grounds or something, you know." The man named Samandriel started singing on an hillbilly accent while jumping up and down.

"_Oh Lordy, pick a bale o' cotton, _

_Oh Lordy, pick a bale o' hay, gotta jump down_

_spin around pick a bale o' cotton, _

_jump down spin around, pick a bale o' hay…"_

"The idjit think that bothers me. Right now you're an 'R', which means you're restricted to the ward. But I think in about a month you'll probably move up to 'two-to-ones', which is two nurses to every patient." I looked at him worryingly.

"Yeah, I'm not gonna be here that long. I'm just … here for a rest."

"It's alright. Everybody gets the same tour, free of charge." We entered a bedroom, where a small man with golden eyes was sitting on his bed, reading "The Patchwork Girl of Oz".

"Gabriel, this is Castiel, your new roommate." Gabriel put down his book and shook my hand, a big smile on his face.

"Oh great, hi"

"Hi."

"Castiel, you're very lucky. Gabriel is an excellent roommate."

"Well thank you, Bobby." The other man said, flirting with the male nurse. I felt a little bit better knowing that my roommate wasn't a complete wackjob. At least he didn't look like one.

A blonde, middle-aged nurse entered the room, looking worried, and started whispering on Bobby's ear. _"The cops are bringing in Dean, they found him in the park."_ Bobby looked at us and smiled what I began to call the "everything's fine" smile.

"Castiel, would you excuse me, I have some business I have to attend to. Gabriel, would you take Susanna down to the dining room in a half hour?"

"Sure."

"Yes means yes, Gabriel."

"I know." He rolled his eyes when Bobby left. I went to my bed and started unpacking.

"Groovy box." He pointed at the cigarette box I had just taken from my suitcase.

"Oh… yeah uhm, they're French. The French Resistance smoked them, I think."

"Did you ever read this?" Gabriel lifted the book on his lap.

"Uhm, no. I saw the movie a bunch of times though."

"Oh well, the movie is actually based on the first book. I read that one too, but there were no ruby slippers in it, in it originally. They had uh… This one takes place afterwards. And Dorothy doesn't really have such a big part in this one."

I stood up and went to the window. The cops were bringing in a man. He looked about 6 feet tall; handsome and dirty, with his caramel hair ruffled, wearing a worn out leather jacket. He was struggling with the officers, trying to keep them from touching him. Gabriel also took a look, his face turning into a frown. I went to the door to see him from a closer distance. He was being uncuffed on the hall.

"Hey Balthy." He said to a man I had seen smoking in front of a door that read _Do Not Enter _earlier. "Let anyone in your room yet?" The other man went back to his room and closed the door.

"Hey boys." He looked at a young blonde nurse "Hey sexy."

He took his jacket off and handed it to Bobby. "It's good to be home!" He yelled enthusiastically. He also emptied his pockets and handed over the content. Lucifer was standing in the middle of the hall holding his hands.

"Hey, torch."

"Hey, Dean."

"You miss me?"

"Not much." Dean smiled.

"Get him to his room." Bobby said "Ellen's gonna do the strip search." Dean turned his head and looked straight into my eyes. His grass-green eyes lost their playfulness right away. I suddenly understood why everyone seemed so afraid of him.

"Who's that with Gabe boy?" He asked to Bobby. "Who is that? Where's Sammy?" Dean started to get frantic and a male nurse held him tight in his arms, but he fought him.

"I can't deal with this." Gabriel said besides me, taking us back into the room and closing the door. We could hear Dean's screams for a man named Sammy. "LET GO OF ME. LET GO OF ME YOU FUCKING SLUT. WHERE'S SAMMY? SAMMY!"

I stood in front of the door to listen better, while Gabriel crawled to his bed. Dean stormed into the room and blocked the door with a chair.

"Who are you?" He asked me. There was a sense of despair in his voice that made my heart sink into my chest. He was clenching his fists, knuckles white with the effort. I looked at Gabriel, who tried to pull himself together in order to answer Dean.

"His name is Castiel, Dean-o. He smokes French cigarettes."

Dean started walking towards me, a murderous look in his face. Frightened, I backed off into a corner of the room, but he followed me.

"Why is all your shit on his bed? Huh? Huh? Why? Why? Where's Sammy!?" He punched the wall beside my face, and I closed my eyes waiting for a blow.

"I don't know what you're talking; I don't know what you're talking about." I cried out, eyes still closed.

"Open your eyes!" He screamed. Bobby somehow broke into the room.

"The hell you doing, Dean?!" Bobby asked. I opened my eyes to find out that Dean was still staring at me. His breath was heavy, and there were tears coming down his face. Bobby grabbed his arm. "Back off him, back off. You've been gone for two weeks. A lot of shit has gone down. Back off." The older man's words seemed to get to him.

"How did he do it? How did he do it? How did he do it, Bobby?" A male nurse grabbed him by the waist and lifted him off the floor. Dean fought him while crying.

"Get the fuck off me!" He kept yelling while the man dragged him out of our room "You weak, you people. You are weak fucking people. You're victims. You people are fucking sick."

Bobby turned to the middle aged nun that had come tell him about Dean earlier. "Ellen?"

"What? No, no, no, no Bobby. Please. Please. No! No." Dean cried out.

They were now in the hall. Two staff members were trying to control Dean, who stayed fighting them off like hell. Other patients are standing in the hall, staring. Two other staff members joined in.

"Dean! Get his legs." Someone from the staff said.

"Hey, hey you fuck! No, fucking people!" Dean was throwing kicks at the nurses that tried to hold him still, so Ellen could dope him up.

"Get his feet!" Bobby yelled.

"Get off me No, no, no, no, no... No! Get off. No!"

At this stage, the staff controlled Dean. Bobby managed to inject something into Dean's left arm that made the younger man calm down immediately.

"We've got to cut those nails again." Bobby said, while whipping blood from a scratch Dean had made on his neck. He handed Ellen some scissors while Dean was taken to seclusion.

I walked back into my room, disturbed by the attack of the chaotic man. I was still shaking with fear. I turned to Gabriel, who was still crawled in his bed, crying.

"My God. What the hell was that?"

"That was Dean-o." He sniffed.

"Well. And Sammy was your roommate?"

Lucifer was standing in the door.

"Sam was Dean's brother. He was sad last week, 'cause Dean ran away and he thought he was dead, so he hung herself with a volleyball net."


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

"FIRST NIGHT"

It was the evening of my first day at Provenance. Everyone was on the TV room, just like earlier; each one engaged on their private activities, some of them trapped inside their little worlds.

"Meds!" A nurse yelled, and everyone moved to the nurse's station but me. I stayed on the couch, focused on the cartoon show that's on TV. Names started to be shouted, so the patient could take his medication.

"Alan J. Corbett!"

"Castiel Novak."

"Castiel Novak." I walked up to the station.

"Hi."

"I'm Mrs. Harvele and these are for you." The blonde nurse that had been a part of Dean's restrain was holding a plastic cup with a couple of pills inside. _How could they be giving me meds already? _I thought. I hadn't been there for a day yet. I hadn't had a consultation with a doctor yet, for God's sake.

"What are they?" I asked.

"They help you sleep."

"But it's ten thirty. I'm not, I'm not gonna…"

"For Christ's sake." Balthazar impatiently scowled at me.

"You can discuss it in the morning, dear, with your doctor. In the meantime, we'll just have to agree to disagree. Take them here. Have some water." The nurse said. I gave in and took the meds.

"You can go now."

I walked back to my room, past seclusion, and took a bewildered look at Dean, while nurse Harvele kept calling doling out meds. I started to get dizzy, and had to lean against the wall.

"CASTIEL NOVAK."

I woke up to the sound of my name being screamed from a podium.

"Wake up, you freak." The guy that was sitting behind me said, and I suddenly realized I was in the middle of my high school graduation. I was sleeping through my high school graduation. _Fuck._ I looked around and saw that a couple of people were laughing. My uncles looked mortified. There was a cute guy smiling at me, looking apologetical.

I heard a door opening. It was night time. A nurse with a flash light entered the room.

"Checks." She said, leaving right away. I turned around to Gabriel.

"Gabriel, why do they do that?" The other man opened his eyes.

"They're just doing checks. They'll space them out more after you've been here a while."

"That one, Lucifer, how did he get all…?" I asked, gesturing that something was wrong with Lucifer's face. Gabriel sighed.

"When Lucifer was ten, his father brought home a puppy. Everyone loved it, but it gave him rash. He didn't want to upset everyone, making his father give away the puppy; so one day, Lucifer went and found his father's gas can, and he poured it all over where he was getting the rash. And then, he lit a match."

"Oh my God. Oh, w-what about you? Why are you here?"

"Pseudologia fantastica."

"What's that?"

"I'm a pathological liar."

Next morning, I woke up to The Chamber Brother's "Time has come today" playing in the background. Gabriel was sitting on his bed reading his book, nodding along to the music. I looked at him and then covered my ears, trying to go back to sleep. The music seemed to get louder and louder as I did so.

It was some after-graduation party. I was dancing to the music, smoking. Some guy was dancing behind me.

"Hey, what are your plans this fall?" The guy asked me over the music.

"What?"

"What are your plans this fall?"

"I don't have any." I said, shrugging.

"I'm going to be an ethnical botanist. Full scholarship to MIT."

"I'm gonna join the Krishnas."

"Hare Krishna? That's interesting actually."

"I was kidding." I walked away leaving him dance all by himself.

I walked a little further, only to have the cute guy that smiled at me at the graduation disaster joining me.

"You're Castiel, right? I'm Ash. I was at graduation. You're, uhm, you're pretty when you sleep."

A nurse entered my room again. It's Meg, one of the nurses that seem nicest to me.

"Checks. It's seven o'clock."

I turned over to see Gabriel's bed empty and done. I turned back and gazed.

I was in bed with the Ash guy. We were looking at each other, lazy due earlier activities.

"I mean everybody thinks about it at some point." He continued the conversation we had been having for at least ten minutes.

"How would you do it?" I asked, curious. He didn't look the type.

"I don't know. I guess, I haven't really thought about it."

I decided to insist. "See, once it's in your head though, you become this strange new breed. A life form that loves to fantasize about its one demise. Make a stupid remark? Kill yourself. You liked the movie? You'll live. You've missed the train, kill yourself, you've…"

"Castiel?" He interrupted me.

"Yes?"

"Let's not talk about this anymore, okay?"

"Why?" I asked, confused. He seemed interested enough on the subject ten seconds ago.

"Because it's, uh, stupid."

I got up and started dressing myself, losing my temper.

"Oh, what? What are you doing? Oh, Je… What? Cause I don't want to kill myself, that's not cool to you?"

"I don't want to die, I was just talking." I said, getting defensive. He sat on the bed, looking annoyed.

"Look! Castiel, the world is fucked up, okay. Alright? It's so fucked up, that if, if some, some draft-zombie pulls my birthday out of a barrel, I'm gonna die."

I turned to him, fully dressed. "When is your birthday?

"December 30."

"I'll pray for you." I said, leaving.

"Checks" Another nurse said, and I decided to get up.

Later that morning, I found myself in the bathing room. It's a big clinical hall with several tubs in it. I was in one of these tubs. Another patient was taking his bath at the same time. A nurse was sitting next to that patient's tub reading a book. The bathing room's door opened and Bobby came in. He handed me a razor.

"You asked for this?" He sat next to my tub.

"Are you gonna watch?"

"It's not like I want to, son." He laughs. "That's why we have so many bearded men here."

Reluctantly, I started shaving. "Has anybody ever watched you shave?" I asked.

"I've got two kids and one bathroom, what do you think?"

"I think you should lock the door."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

"EVERYONE HERE IS FUCKING CRAZY"

I was sitting on a couch in the TV room writing in my journal. The last entry read "Two kids and one Bathroom". I was smoking a cigarette and keeping an eye on the TV, watching birthday dates being drafted for the war. Or as Balthazar had named it earlier, "the fucking death lottery". Meg was sitting in a chair reading a magazine. Samandriel and Benny were on the couch in front of the TV, Samandriel's legs on Benny's lap, both paying attention to the TV. An old catatonic man was beside me, staring at a wall.

"September 14." The man on the TV stated, to witch Benny replied:

"Bingo."

"December 30."

I turned my head to the TV, horrified, as Benny went on, repeating _Bingo_.

"Oh my God." I whispered to no one. "A guy I know was just drafted."

"What's his name?" Samandriel asked.

"Ash."

"He's dead now." He professed, getting up from the couch and walking away.

I looked at him in pure awe. I had been there for a week or so, and was still trying to figure things out, but something was clear to me: People in a mental institution have little to no respect when it came to societal norms. They wouldn't be nice to you because someone told them that doing otherwise was rude, they wouldn't spare your feelings or say that everything was ok when you knew that it wasn't. And that was refreshing. Not having to smile all the time, to shine your teeth until it doesn't mean anything anymore. Those crazy people locked away knew more about freedom than any sane one that I had ever met.

I heard a loud stump and looked around. Dean had just kicked Balthazar's door open. It was the first time I had seen him outside seclusion since his outburst on my first day. He was wearing combat boots, jeans and a plaid shirt over a yellow t-shirt.

"GET OUT DEAN" Balthazar screamed from inside his room.

"I'm not in your room Balthy, I'm right fucking here. I was gonna offer you some of my candy." Dean said, leaning against the door frame.

"GET OUT." The other man replied, slamming the door shut. Dean put his caramel on his pocket, walking down the hall towards the TV room.

"Looking better, Dean." Meg said, on a kind tone.

"Well thanks, Meg." Dean said, heading for the couch. Benny looked to Dean with pure joy in his face while the other man laid down on the couch against him, his back against Benny's chest and his legs over the couch's arm. Dean laced his right hand fingers with Benny's, still looking to Meg. "How's the engagement going?"

"Oh, you know…" The brunette replied. I couldn't stop looking to Dean. His intimacy with Benny looked completely effortless, the older man playing with his hair like they had done that a million times before. I felt oddly uncomfortable with that.

"No, I don't. I've been away."

Meg smiled. "Well he wants me to… before the wedding."

"Fuck his brains out. Use a rubber." Dean said, biting Benny's fingers affectionately as the other man giggled. After a little giggle from the other boys and a stunt kick at Corbertt, a patient that seemed to get along with everybody, Dean walked over and took a seat right in front of me, starring shamelessly at me.

"French cigarettes, huh?" He raised an eyebrow to the cigarette I was holding.

"Do you want one?" I tried, afraid of his reaction. He did shove me against a wall during our first interaction.

"No, thanks. I don't believe in things that numb you down. If I wanted that, I would just take my meds. It's pathetic how people fill their hearts with smoke so they can hide the emptiness that is there."

"So you're saying that yours isn't?"

"Au contraire. I'm just not ashamed of it."

I was speechless. He grinned.

"So, have you had your first Chuck yet?"

"Who's that?"

"Bearded guy with a little pecker and a crazy wife. Your therapist, angel."

I shook my head, uneasy with the nickname.

"Unless, uh, unless they're giving you shocks. Or God forbid letting you out. Then you get to see the great, wonderful Doctor Dyke."

"She means Doctor Moseley." Meg said.

"I've been in his office, but I haven't met him yet."

"He's a she. Dr. Moseley's a girl." Benny sang.

"That's right, Benny, Moseley's a chick. Hence the nickname." Dean said, shrugging.

"Dean!" A nurse screamed from the hallway.

"Hey, Jo. When the fuck is my checkup?"

"Now. It's now, Dean. You said, you'd be in your room."

"Can't let you sit too long without popping the hood, huh?" He laughed, getting up from the chair and dancing towards the young nurse.

So, he wasn't angry at me anymore, I thought. His whole _no-drugs_ speech had caught me by surprise. I wouldn't put him in the prudish category, so I had no idea where that had come from.

"Castiel, you have Chuck in half an hour. I'll take you there." Meg said, interrupting my wondering.

On his desk was a sign reading "Chuck Shurley, M.D." and a picture of him and his family in front of some church. Faintly in the back a clock was ticking. Chuck was sitting behind his desk, I was in a chair in front of it, smoking.

"Why are you using the past tense?" He asked me.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he was only drafted today, so chances are he's not dead yet. He probably has several months before he even reports."

"He was just a nice guy, and that's all and it made me feel bad."

He leaned back on his chair. "You've been feeling bad in general, right? You've been feeling depressed."

"I haven't exactly been a ball of joy, Chuck." I replied, defensively.

"I understand you tried to kill yourself last week. Anything you want to tell me about that?"

I took a deep breath, angry with the repetitive question. "I had a headache."

"So I assume you took the recommended aspirin dosage for a headache."

"I didn't try to kill myself." I insisted.

"What were you trying to do?"

"I was trying to make the shit stop."

"The, the time jumps, the depression, the, uh, aches, the thing with your hand." He said, reading my file.

"All of the above."

"I see."

I looked out the window and saw a naked man running around crying out "Ash's dead". Meanwhile Chuck was taking some notes.

"Castiel? Are you puzzled about something?"

"Yeah, I guess I am Chuck. I guess I'm puzzled as to why it is I have to be in a mental institution."

"You put yourself here." He stated.

"My parents put me here."

"No, they didn't." He replied, calmly.

"Everyone here is fucking crazy." I blurted out.

"You wanna go home?"

"Same problem."

Hello, Everyone. First of all, I'd really like to thank you for the amazing reviews. They mean a lot to me, and being as lazy as I am, receiving them keeps me motivated to write. I came here to answer a couple of questions that you guys made.

I will mostly follow the plot of the movie, but there will be huge creative licenses taken. Sam will be introduced further in the story, so I can explain what happened to him and why the Winchesters ended up in a mental institution in the first place. The Cas/Dean relationship will eventually turn into a romantic one, but the buildup will be slow. The fic is rated M for a reason, and it is not rude language.

I love this movie, and I love Dean and Cas, so I will try to make this as awesome as I can. I want to thank you again and leave a question for you to answer:

Do you think Dean is really crazy or not?

Lots of Love,

Clara


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

ABOUT COLACE AND VALIUMS

It was another afternoon at Provenance. They came and go easily, almost unnoticeably. I could have been there for five days or five months: The scenery never changed. We were on the TV room, Dean lying on the couch, Corbertt on a chair, actually watching the TV, Benny sitting next to it, his back to the wall. Dean was playing with a sock puppet called Mr. Fizzles, which he had gotten as a gift from a patient called Garth, before the other man had been discharged.

"Benny, look at me. Play with me. Don't be sad, don't be sad." Benny looked at Mr. Fizzles, making Dean smile. That's when a nurse came up to him, distributing meds.

"Dean." He looked up to the blonde woman.

"Hey, Jo." The young nurse handed him his meds. Dean put them in his mouth and swallowed. He then stuck out his tongue to proof that he took the meds.

"Thank you." Jo said, walking on to the next patient.

"Uh hum."

I looked to the hallway and saw Balthazar's dad bringing his son something wrapped in aluminum foil. Balthazar and his dad hugged. When I looked back to Dean, he showed me that he had tongued his meds, taking them out of his mouth and placing them into his pocket.

"Castiel."

"Yes, Jo." She handed me a cup with some pills inside. "Oh. What are these?"

"Colace. It's just a laxative."

I blushed to the unexpected answer. "I don't need them."

Behind Jo, Dean looked at me with an expectant gaze. We continued staring until the nurse got impatient.

"Are we going to have a problem, Castiel?"

"_Are we going to have a problem? Are we going to have a problem_?" The green eyed man echoed, talking to his puppet in a high-pitched tone. I took the pills. "_No. No problem_."

"May I see?" The nurse asked. I opened my mouth.

"_Surrender_." Dean was looking at me, still talking in the puppet voice.

"Thank you." Jo moved on to Benny.

"_Are we going to have a problem?" _ I spit out the meds that I had hidden under my tongue, showing them to Dean. He grinned. "_No. No problem."_

"Castiel!" Meg called from the nurse's station. "Phone call, booth one."

I went to the phone booth, sitting on the small wooden bench while waiting for the call to be completed. I picked up the handle.

"Hello?"

"Castiel?" My aunt replied.

"Hi, Anna."

"Hi, honey. Your uncle is on too."

I couldn't help but pay attention to the small commotion that Balthazar was causing on the halls over the boring conversation that my aunt would certainly start. Balthazar was complaining loudly and yelling at some nurses.

"Oh, god! Bobby! Bobby please, if you can't give me any ExLax, can I please have some Colace? Please?"

"No. No more laxatives." Bobby replied, walking away with Meg

"Meg?" Balthazar begged.

"I can get you some prune juice."

The other man laughed. "Prune juice? This is outrageous!" He went back to his room, slamming the door shut.

I returned my attention to the phone, nodding along the routine call I got every week from my family.

When the call ended, I decided that my medication had found its destiny. I knocked on Balthazar's door.

"Balthazar?"

"Fuck off." He yelled from inside the room.

"I have something you want."

The sand-haired man opened the door. "Come in." I did so.

He was sitting on his bed picking at and eating a grilled chicken. "Que sera, sera" was playing in the background. I sat down on a chair and noticed that he had his bags made.

"You're all packed up?"

"I'm leaving in a month. My dad got me an apartment."

A spike of jealously shot through my body. What Balthazar had that I didn't? Why would they let him out of there when he was still having outbursts about laxatives? I tried to sound supportive.

"Really? What…Where? What kind of place?"

He smiled to me. "It's near the airport. One bedroom, two baths, eat-in chicken. He'll fix it up real nice for me."

"You mean eat-in kitchen." I corrected him.

"That's what I said, asshole. So what do you have that I want?" I took the Colace off my pocket and showed it to him. "Put it on the bed and get out."

"Put yours on the bed." Dean said, standing in the half opened door.

"Oh Jesus, get out! Get out!"

Dean entered the room. "Come on Balthy, don't take advantage just cause he's new. Honey up some Valium."

"Get the fuck out or I'm calling Bobby! Bobby!" Balthazar screamed the male nurse's name.

"Yeah, yeah. Why don't you call Bobby. Let's call Bobby and ask him for some Colace just like Cas got in his fucking hand. Why does it stink in here?" Dean asked, sniffing around.

"I don't take Valium." Balthazar replied, crossing his arms.

"I know Balthy, that's the point, you don't take them. They give them to you and you don't take them. What are you, are you gonna eat that, or, or wh…?" Dean pointed to the grilled chicken on Balthazar's lap.

"Checks." A nurse said, opening the door. "Hey, you've got visitors, Balthazar."

"I want some fucking Colace."

"Talk to Chuck tomorrow." She replied, leaving the room.

Dean walked up to Balthazar's bed.

"You know what I think? I think you wanna poop, Balthy. I think it's been days."

Bothered by Dean's snarky attitude, I got up and handed over the Colace to Balthazar.

"It's okay, I don't care." I said in what I hoped to be a soothing tone.

"I do, I do care." Dean stopped me, a hand on my chest as he continued his verbal attack

"So, daddy buys you a private 'no-one-gets-in', huh? You never leave, except for when Bobby makes you go to the cafeteria, where, uh, you never eat. You're a laxative-junky, so, I always thought you were like Samandriel, but then, but then here you are with this fucking chicken." He made the noise and the motion of a chicken. "So, what's with that, huh?"

"My dad owns a deli, asshole, with a rotisserie. I like my dad's chicken and when I eat something else, I puke." Balthazar stated, as a matter of fact.

"Oh." Dean nodded in fake understanding. Curious, I decided to ask the question that bothered me the most about the lonely sandy-haired man.

"But why do you eat it here? Why don't you like to go to the cafeteria?"

"Which do you like better? Taking a dump alone or with Bobby watching?"

"Alone." I answered.

"Everyone likes to be alone when it comes out. I like to be alone when it goes in. To me, the cafeteria is like being with twenty boys all at once taking a dump."

Meanwhile with the help of a little pocket mirror, Dean was taking a look at an unwrapped aluminum foil underneath Balthazar's bed. He could only see a small part of it.

"That's fucked up, Balthy." He said, smiling. He went to the door and opened it, ready to leave. "Come on, Cas." I followed.

"Alright, assholes." Balthazar muttered, convinced. "Fine. Here."

He took the Valium out of one teddy bear and laid it on the bed. I put the Colace on the bed, too. Balthazar grabbed the Colace and Dean got the Valium. Balthazar swallowed his meds as Dean put his on his pocket.

"I thought you didn't take your meds." I said, remembering the conversation we had a couple of weeks ago.

"These are not for me." He said, bowing down on his knees to take a closer look under the bed.

"No! Dean don't! No, no, no, no, no, please." Balthazar cried out, panicking.

"Dios fucking mio." Dean said, a disgusted look on his face. I lied down so I could also take a look. Several chicken carcasses lied underneath the bed. The smell was so bad, we both started to cough. We couldn't help laughing.

"I guess that's how daddy knows she's eating, huh?" Dean said, looking at me.

"When I get five, Bobby makes me throw them away." Balthazar tried to justify, looking disturbed.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

THEN YOU'RE A LIFER LIKE ME

It was night time. I was writing and drawing in my Diary, sitting on my bed. Dean crept into the room.

"Scribble, scribble, scribble." I jumped, startled. "Written anything about me yet?" He smiled, coming closer and trying to peak.

"Don't do that." I said, retrieving the notebook.

"Okay." He replied, laying down on my bed. From across the room, Gabriel turned his head to us.

"Hey, Dean-o? Is Balthy really getting out?" The short man asked.

"Yeah. He coughed up a big one."

I tilted my head, looking at Dean's impossibly green eyes. "But, but how could…I mean he's insane." He looked back at me, entertained.

"Yeah, well that's what fair rating is all about. That's why fucking Freud's picture's on every shrink's wall. You create a fucking industry. You lie down, you confess your secrets and you're saved. Ka-ching. You know, the more you confess, the more they think about setting you free."

"But what if you don't have a secret?" I asked.

He sat up and cupped my cheek, smiling.

"Then you're a lifer, like me."


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

HOLIDAY-COCKTAIL-CHRISTIMAS-PARTY-CRISIS

I was absently spinning myself in a Vinyl chair on Chuck's office. My uncle and aunt were talking to my therapist. Well, my aunt Anna was talking, while uncle Michael kept starring the ceiling, looking just as bored as me.

"His mother was changing his diaper and turned to get the powder and while her back was turned, he rolled off the bed. He rolled off the bed and broke his leg. And the doctor put him in the body cast but he also strapped him down. "

Uncle Michael, looking exasperated, decided to try to calm her down. "Anna, this has nothing to do with…"

I stopped spinning for a moment. "You never told me this." The memories I had from my parents weren't that many, and that was _definitely _not one of them.

"His father had been planning this trip to Santa Monica where he had a commitment at RAND, so they, they took him with them on the back seat strapped for, for four thousand miles." I silently laughed while my aunt looked like she was on the verge of tears. She was always positively convinced that everything wrong in my life had to do with my dead parents. I wondered if she wasn't the one that should be locked away.

Chuck, in all of his condescending self, gestured her to stop. "If you like, Mrs. Novak, we can discuss this, uh, further on the way out, but, uhm…"

"Just how long is my nephew going to be here?" Uncle Michael finally spoke up.

"With all due respect, Mr. Novak, psychiatry and economics are, uh, are different. The length of Castiel's stay isn't fixed, uh, it depends on his response to his treatment.

I could see my uncle's neck getting red from where I was sitting. I knew how much he hated being contradicted. He raised his tone. "For what? Depression? Look, it's almost Christmas. What are we supposed to say to the people back home who care about him?"

I was so tired of his bossing around, acting like I was the one begging to be in a mental institution, like I was in a fucking vacation.

"See, Chuck, what's going here, is my family is having a little holiday-cocktail- Christmas-party-crisis."

"Castiel!" Anna shouted at me.

"What?"

She turned her attention back to the doctor. "So what is this borderline business you mentioned on the phone?"

Curious, I looked at Chuck, who seemed aggravated.

"Oh, look, uhm, I don't think that's useful to Castiel, I mean not, uh..."

Placing two and two together, I inquired him.

"What borderline business?"

He tried to bullshit me, of course. "See, the mind…"

I wouldn't have any of that. "Borderline what?"

"…is the…" He continued.

"Borderline between what and what? Chuck!"

"It's a condition, Castiel. And it's called Borderline Personality Disorder." He explained.

"Oh God." My aunt sobbed out.

"It's not uncommon. Especially among young."

"What causes it?" She asked, with a small voice.

"We're really not sure." Chuck answered.

Interested, I continued. "Is it genetic?"

"Oh Christ!" She whined.

"It is five times more common among those with a borderline parent."

Aunt Anna got up from her chair, hands on her face, shocked. "I can't, I can't do this. I'm sorry. I can't do this."


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE TUNNELS or WHAT IS YOUR DIAGNONSENSE?

I was standing by the window of the TV room watching my family leave. All of the boys were there, just as always. Some were watching TV, some were playing cards. Dean ducked his head away from his game, paying attention to me. I walked toward the sofa, expressionless. I had nothing to give him right now. He turned his attention back to the cards, and started declaiming a Dorothy Parker poem that I had written on my journal just yesterday.

"_Razors pain you. _

_Rivers are damp. _

_Acid stains you. _

_Drugs cause cramp. _

_Gun's aren't lawful. _

_Nooses give._

_Gas smells awful. _

_You might as well live."_

I knew what he wanted. We had this unspoken rule, which my diary was off-limits; and he wanted to show me he had broken that rule. I didn't really mind, so I kept quiet, focusing on the TV. So naturally, he got up and turned it off.

"Hey!" Lucifer complained, waving his little American flag.

"Asshole." Samandriel snapped from across the sofa.

"Fatso!" Dean replied, walking past me.

"Hey Castiel." Meg said, turning the TV back on.

I nodded back a hello. Corbett smiled widely and turned to the nurse.

"Meg, call me a cab."

The brunette smiled back and put both her hands on her narrow waist. "Okay, you are a cab."

Benny cracked up. Samandriel smirked at me, looking curious.

"Dean said you got into Balthazar's room…" He tried, to which I nodded, having the lightest smile on my lips. "And it was full of chickens."

Before I could answer him, Jo called my name.

"Castiel, you have a phone call."

I went to the phone booth and sat down, picking up the telephone. It was mute.

"Hello?" I tried.

"So, what's your diagnonsense?" A voice whispered to me.

"Who is this?"

"What did he say to uncle and auntie?" I rolled my eyes, realizing whose voice was that, and leaned out of the booth. Dean was doing the same thing two booths away. I scowled at him and continued our conversation.

"I have a borderline personality."

"Oh" He said, condescending. "That's nothing. What else?"

"Oh he, he didn't wanna say. He thought it would affect my recovery."

"Alright, listen. Tong your meds tonight. After one o'clock checks, Ellen always goes out for a smoke. Check the mirrors and if they're clear you go down to the Janitor's closet. It's near the art room. And it will be open."

We met near the art room at one a.m. Gabriel, Dean, Lucifer, Corbett, Samandriel, almost everyone was there. We broke into the tunnels using Dean's stolen set of keys. When we got into the dark tunnels underneath the hospital, all the boys started laughing and running. Lucifer whispered my name.

"Castiel. This is how Dean gets out when he escapes."

When Corbett had to use a clip to break another door lock, Dean shook his keys to me. " We're under administration, so, they're not good here."

"Good thing this place works on a sliding scale." Samandriel said. "You get to mingle with the lock-picking trash."

Corbett cracked open the locked door, smiling mockingly at the other man. When Lucifer turned the lights on, I saw that the place was a giant bowling room.

"Let's go!" Dean squeaked, running and throwing his arms on the air. Everyone cheered and clapped as Corbett bowled.

"Good move!" Gabriel praised, as Dean let out a delighted laugh. I couldn't help but laugh, too. That was such an honest, fun moment that even Samandriel was behaving nicely.

"Castiel!" He said, rearranging the pins. "You're up."

I shied away. "No, no, no, no. I've only done this once in my life."

They all beamed an annoyed yet cheery _come on. _After an encouraging look from Dean, I went ahead and tried it. Only one pin stood still, and I jumped, celebrating my small victory. After that, we start bowling one by one, while Dean stayed on his chair, cheering and giggling and making all kinds of weird happy noises. I felt so much joy I thought my internal organs might as well be rainbow colored and full of butterflies.

After a couple of hours, we walked back to the tunnels.

"When they built this place, they put the tunnels in, so the loons wouldn't have to go anywhere in the cold." Samandriel added.

"I must have missed that in the brochure." I joked. Dean turned around, making me acknowledge his amusement.

We arrived on Dr. Moseley's office. Gabriel turned on the light as we all entered the room. Dean immediately ran towards him, slapping the shorter man on the face.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" He asked, turning the lights off.

Gabriel just stood there, looking like a beaten up puppy, while the green eyed man sprinted back into the room. I gave him what I expected to be a very disapproving look.

"Wow!" Lucifer muttered. "Dr. Moseley's office."


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

THAT'S EVERYBODY

Dean was sitting behind Dr. Moseley's desk, handing out everybody's records. We had all scattered and were sitting on different spots of the room. He looked to Gabriel, who had shrunk himself in the form of a ball, looking upset.

"Alright. Gabe boy." The caramel-eyed man shyly walked towards him, not really looking him in the eyes. When he reached for the file, Dean didn't let go. He waited for Gabriel to look at him, and then raised his eyebrows, looking for approval. That was as apologetic as I had ever seen Dean. Gabriel nodded, the slightest twist on his mouth, and went back to his chair.

After that, Dean proceeded to call everybody's name, handing over a file to each one.

"Cas."

"Lucy."

"Corbett. Congratulations."

"Thank you." Corbett replied, taking a bow.

"Alfie." He tossed the file to Samandriel, who was sitting by the window.

"Dean Winchester."

We all started reading our files. Lucifer was contemplating an old picture of himself in his.

"Fuck you, Chuck." Dean muttered under his breath.

Samandriel looked up, closing his. "Wanna see mine?" He asked Dean, who smiled. "Let me see yours." They exchanged files as I got up from my chair. I needed a pathology book if I really wanted to understand what my records meant. I ran my fingers over the book covers on the shelf behind Moseley's desk, trying to continue following Dean and Samandriel's conversation.

The lanky man started reading out loud. "Hum… Dean Winchester. Highs and lows increasingly severe. Controlling relationships with patients. No appreciable response to meds. No remission observed… And that's before you ran away."

I finally found a copy of the DSM.

"We are very rare and we are mostly men." Dean said, smiling.

Samandriel turned to me. "He thinks he's hot shit 'cause he's a sociopath."

"I'm a sociopath." Corbett stated.

Dean blatantly responded.

"No, you're a fag."

I read out of the DSM, so everyone could hear.

"Borderline Personality Disorder. An instability of self-image, relationships and mood. Uncertainty about goals, impulsive in activities that are self-damaging such as casual sex."

"I like that." Dean smirked. I ignored him.

"Social contrariness and a generally pessimistic attitude are often observed." I closed the book, reflecting. "That's me."

"That's everybody." He remarked

I looked at them, confused.

"I mean what kind of sex isn't casual?" I asked.

Samandriel actually smirked before explaining.

"They mean promiscuous."

I opened my mouth, and then closed again, not knowing what to say. "I'm not promiscuous." I acknowledged. Dean giggled. "I'm not!"


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

FIRE

The nurses had decided to take us on some sort of field trip to an Ice Cream parlor downtown. It was a ten- or fifteen-minute walk down the hill, past the rosebushes and stately trees of our beautiful hospital. The farther we got from our ward, the jumpier the nurses became. By the time we hit the street they were silent and closed in on us, and they had assumed the Nonchalant Look, an expression that said, I am not a nurse escorting six lunatics to the ice cream parlor.

But they were, and we were their six lunatics, so we behaved like lunatics. None of us did anything unusual. We just kept up doing whatever we did back on the ward. Muttering, snarling, crying. Balthazar poked people. Gabriel complained about not being as crazy as those other two. Dean walked ahead of us, behaving like our king.

We were in the middle of the winter, and there was snow everywhere. I had all of my coats on, and yet felt the chill wind on my bones. Samandriel, though, was walking besides us, the only one not to brake into the snow.

" Jesus." I whispered. "Look at him."

Bobby was trying to calm down Benny, who kept acting out.

I turned around to Dean, who was now walking arm-to-arm besides me.

"You know, taking us for ice creams in a blizzard makes you wonder who the real whack jobs are."

Lucifer came to the rescue. "You know I think it's kinda nice. I mean, I think it's nice to do something nice on Balthazar's last day." I looked at him, trying not to smile and failing miserably.

I thought a lot about Lucifer, and what he had done. Setting himself on fire. I think the gasoline had settled in his collarbones, forming pools there beside his shoulders, because his neck and cheeks were scarred the most. The scars were thick ridges, alternating bright pink and white, in stripes up from his neck.

Scar tissue has no character. It's not like skin. It doesn't show age or illness or pallor or tan. It has no pores, no hair, no wrinkles. It's like a slipcover. It shields and disguises what's beneath. That's why we grow it,- we have something to hide.

Lucifer. His name must have seemed ridiculous to him in the months- or years- before he set himself on fire, but it suited him well in his slipcovered, survivor life. He was never unhappy. He was kind and comforting to those who were unhappy. He never complained. He always had time to listen to other people's complaints. He was faultless, in his impermeable tight pink-and-white casing. And as childish and naïve as he could be, we all respected him. Because-what courage!

Who had the courage to burn himself? Twenty aspirin, a little slit alongside the veins of the arm, maybe even a bad half hour standing on a roof: We've all had those. And somewhat more dangerous things, like putting a gun in your mouth. But you put it there, you taste it, it's cold and greasy, your finger is on the trigger, and you find that a whole world lies between this moment and the moment you've been planning, when you'll pull the trigger. That world defeats you. You put the gun back in the drawer. You'll have to find another way.

What was that moment like for him? The moment he lit the match. I wondered if he knew what would happen. If he knew he would never see his puppy again, if that was even the real reason why he'd done it. Maybe it wasn't. Gabriel was locked up for being a liar, after all. I didn't have the courage to ask.

He lit the match.

Somebody found him, but not for a while. Who would kiss a person like that, a person with no skin?


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ICE CREAM

The floor of the ice cream parlor bothered me. It was black-and-white checkerboard tile, bigger than supermarket checkerboard. If I looked only at a white square, I would be all right, but it was hard to ignore the black squares that surrounded the white ones. The contrast got under my skin. I felt itchy. The floor meant Yes, No, This, That, Up, Down, Day, Night-all the indecisions and opposites that were bad enough in life without having them spelled out for you on the floor.

A new boy was dishing out cones. We approached him in a phalanx. I looked back over Dean's shoulder to see Ms. Crowley and her daughter sitting at one of the little tables.

"Fuck." I said, hiding my face on his back.

"Now, I'm gonna have peppermint stick." Gabriel said, talking to the ice cream guy.

"Yeah, me too. Can I just have peppermint stick?" Lucifer asked.

"Sure." The guy smiled.

Balthazar looked at them with his sour face on. "No. It's just called a peppermint."

"Peppermint dick!" Benny blurted out. Everyone at the place giggled. The customers seemed entertained.

"Honestly." Balthazar was revving up for a complaint.

"Peppermint clit."

Everyone giggled even more. That earned Benny a nurse nip. They were not above pinching us or giving a Balthazar-like poke to try shutting us up: nurse nips. We didn't blame them for trying, and they didn't blame us for being ourselves. It was all we had-the truth-and the nurses knew it.

"Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay." Bobby stepped up. "We're just gonna have four cones."

"Four cones." The ice cream guy repeated.

Bobby turned to me. "Cas, do you want anything?"

Trying to hide myself from the Crowleys as best as I could, I refused the ice cream from behind Dean.

"I'm fine."

"Dean?"

Dean shrugged, walking to the counter with the casual sense of purpose that was so characteristic of him. This was going to be amusing. He leaned towards the ice cream guy, reading his name tag.

"Hey Aaron." Dean said with a hoarse voice and a charming grim. I felt something in my lower stomach twitch.

"Hmm, yes." The guy replied, a little startled.

"Got any hot fudge?"

"Yes."

"Yeah?" Dean spread his smile a little wider. I couldn't look away if I tried. I didn't really want to. "Can I have a Vanilla Sundae with hot fudge? And, uh, sprinklers. Rainbow, not chocolate."

Aaron could only shake his head.

"And uhm…" Dean continued, picking a cherry from the jar on the counter and running it along his lower lip. "…uhm, whipped cream…" He darted his tongue on the cherry in an easy lick. _Fuck._ "Cherries and uh…"

"Nuts?" Aaron tried. We cracked up.

"Ok, ok, let's have a seat, boys." Bobby tried, apologetically.

A couple of minutes later, we were sitting around four tables, all silent while Balthazar ranted about his discharge. Dean was glaring at the top of his head like he could fry the other man's brain with sheer force of will.

"Chuck thought that I should live in a half-way house. But my father knew that I deserved my own apartment. So he got me the prettiest apartment. It has an eat-in chicken and there are all these beautiful wither furniture and…, which is fantastic. Liquor butterflies and… my very favorite part is I like in the phone booth, there's a sign right outside that says "If you lived here, you'd be home now"."

I couldn't help but wonder why he was being released. From all of us, he was the one that benefit the most from being locked up. Twice a week his squat potato-face father brought a whole chicken roasted and wrapped in aluminum foil. We all saw the way Balthazar would hold the chicken in his lap and fondle it through the foil, darting his eyes around the room, eager for his father to leave so he could get going on the chicken. But his father wanted to stay as long as possible, because he was in love with Balthazar.

Dean had explained it. "He can't believe he produced him. He wants to fuck him to make sure he's real."

"But he smells," Lucifer objected. He smelled, of course, like chicken and shit.

"He didn't always smell," Dean replied.

I thought Dean was right, because I'd noticed that Balthazar was sexy. Even though he smelled and glowered and hissed and poked, he had a spark the rest of us lacked. He wore shorts and t-shirts to display his pale wiry limbs, and when he ambled down the hall in the morning to get his laxatives, he swung his ass in insouciant half-circles.

Immerged on thoughts about Balthazar as I was, Ms. Crowley's voice completely startled me when she stopped by our table, looking furious.

"Hello Castiel." She snapped. "Do you remember me? You must remember me."

"Yes. Mrs. Crowley, hi." I tried, smiling.

"Cas, are you okay?" Bobby asked warily.

"Oh I'm, I'm fine. Hey Ruby. How, How's Radcliff?" The brunette raised one smug eyebrow.

"Welsley. I'm enjoying it. It's strong in art. I'm going to the Sorbonne this summer."

"That's great, wow."

Before I could even blink, Ms. Crowley was all over my face, cornering me against the wall. It seemed like everyone around me had missed the Personal Space Memo. "You know, I know all about you and I hope they put you away forever."

Dean looked up, amused. "Is this the professor's wife?"

"What professor?" Samandriel asked.

"Oh, so you told everybody." She sounded exasperated. I didn't know what to say.

"Lady, back off." Dean commanded, his voice louder.

"Was I talking to you?" Ms. Crowley hissed.

"Mother, we have to go." Ruby whispered.

"No, you were spitting on me, so mellow fucking out." Dean added, his tone still intimidating.

"Don't you tell me what to do." The woman insisted.

"Look, he gave your husband a rim job. Big fucking deal. I'm sure he was begging for it and I heard it was like a pencil anyway." My jaw dropped at Dean's response. If aunt Anna ever heard about this, she would probably have a stroke. But manners didn't stop Ms. Crowley to almost leap at Dean, finger pointing at his nose.

"Hey you, how dare you…"

He grabbed her finger, interrupting her resentful rant. "Hey, some advice, okay: just don't point your fucking finger at crazy people." Janet started barking, and everyone joined while I laughed in bewilderment.

"Let go of me." She gulped, trying to release herself from Dean's hold.

"Mother?" Ruby tried, coming closer.

"Get that out of my face, asshole!" Balthazar shouted, slapping Ruby's cone out of her hand.

That's when Bobby grabbed Dean's wrist. "Let go, now. Stop it!" The older man demanded, giving Ms. Crowley and Ruby an opportunity to run away from the Ice Cream parlor.

"You shared a man with that woman?" Dean asked while I tried to stop laughing.

On our way back to the hospital, Bobby stepped in between Dean and me, grabbing his arm lightly. "Did you enjoy the fresh air, Dean?"

"Yeah I did, Bobby. Thanks."

"Good." The other man replied. "Cause it's the last time you're leaving the ward."

That made Dean smile. "Is that a dare, or a double dare?"

**Hello guys, I am back in action! I hope you haven't missed me too much. Long story short, y'all have to thank _Otek _for that. Her reviews were what motivated me to start writing this story again, so you should learn from her example. Lots of kisses for you and your amazing reviews, sweetheart. x Clara**

**P.S.: I hope you all like this. The next chapters may or may not involve some making out and background story ~~cue to sad music **


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

"I'm a fucking scrub, alright!"

We were in the middle of our gym class when Balthazar left. Now, when think about it, I see that it must've been on purpose. We all hated him for tainting his freedom in front of us - his endless talks about his eat-in-chickens and pretty suburban houses – while we were doomed to stay locked inside our little parallel universe.

"Okay, raise your arms. Very good, we're going to be trees."

Gym classes were the most fun we had provided by the hospital. We all got to act as the wackjobs we were with background music to tune us in. People said that our instructor, Mrs. Mills, had started giving classes there because she had a crazy son locked up in the hospital once. That he had died there, and she liked to cherish his memory by dancing with us lunatics.

"Feel the strength in your arms as the branches and reach those branches up to the sky. Come on Castiel, reach. Very good. Oh, Dean, yeah alright. Reach your arms boys, reach really…lift. Feel the stretch through the hip. Very good let your arms be branches. Feel the strength of those branches. Reach, reach all the way up into the sky. Very good. Let the wind blow leaves and let you fingers be the leaves. Good Benny, very good. Feel the wind. Good, good Dean.

It was during our tree routine when I noticed Samandriel standing by the window, looking distressed. When I came closer, I could see Balthazar entering a car, while his father carried his suitcase. Dean joined us right in time.

"That is not fair. That is not fair! That is not fair!" Samandriel started screaming. "74 is the perfect weight!" He shouted as he broke down crying on the floor.

"Good luck, crazy bitch." Dean whispered, moving away from the window.

Mrs. Mills tried to come closer to Samandriel, soothing him. "Now, what kind of tree can you be, Samandriel, down there on the floor?"

"I'm a fucking scrub, alright!"


End file.
